


A Steady Fall

by Gotcocomilk



Category: Bleach
Genre: Banter, Loyalty, M/M, Tender Sex, Trust Kink, they argue a lot because its Them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gotcocomilk/pseuds/Gotcocomilk
Summary: He wanted this, with all the greedy shards of his guilty heart. And if Ichigo would give this to him? If the man he’d sworn to follow and fight for would give him this?Kisuke would take it all, even if it broke him to pieces.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 38
Kudos: 376
Collections: UraIchi Week 2020





	A Steady Fall

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it for me for uraichi week! I have more fics drafted but sadly I've hit my editing limit haha, so those will have to come later. Enjoy!

Kisuke had planned this, but he hadn’t planned for this.

Oh, he’d thought of a hundred ways to trip Ichigo into bed and reap the benefits. He’d thought of more paths to annoy the man into fucking Kisuke against a wall, a thousand threads to earn warm kisses across his neck and a strong body pressing him down.

Kisuke was a man of endless plans, and in the quietest moments of night, he had indulged in all the ways he could win Ichigo over. He had let them play out in his mind, careful constructions that never failed to leave him panting.

But he’d never acted on them.

He’d walked a step behind Ichigo, ready for every request and need. He’d followed bright hair into battle, all his plans spread out like a web of support for one man alone.

Kisuke had trusted Ichigo, and was trusted in turn. There was nothing in him that could ever betray that, not now.

So he didn’t trick the man into bed, or tempt him. If Ichigo wanted it, well— Kisuke gave his king anything. His body was a small thing, when he’d given his heart and mind long ago.

So he’d planned a thousand seductions, but never planned to be seduced. Maybe it was a good thing then, that Ichigo had never failed to surprise him.

It began in the years after war, when Ichigo walked through his door with broad shoulders and firm eyes. It began when Ichigo came to lend a hand at the shop, on the nights when the girls were away and the clinic was too quiet. It began when Ichigo started standing too close, with skin that was too warm and a scowl that was too steady.

Kisuke had marked that down to a quiet comfort earned in battle. They had fought at each other’s side for too long to not stand close, and caught each other for too long to not trust. This new habit of Ichigo’s was just that— seeking the familiar in a new life.

He had been wrong.

But it really began when Ichigo wrapped a broad hand around his back and pull him in, three months into this pattern. Kisuke went willingly, surprise keeping the smile off his face and the shadows under his fingers. He hadn’t expected the determination shining out of strong eyes, the heat and fire there.

But Kisuke had already given this man everything, and so he only raised a hand to catch at his hat, and did not pull away.

Ichigo was so warm.

“My my, Ichigo, this is so forward of you,” he said, the words light and dancing. The fingers spread across his back were steady, but there was a gentle flush growing over Ichigo’s face. It looked like embarrassment, like the first hints of the sun across the horizon. Kisuke wanted to catch it in his fingers and memorize it with all his terrible genius.

He wanted to know if he could make that flush spread further down.

“Damn it, Kisuke, don’t tease. I’d like to kiss you, so shut up and let me.”

Well. There was really nothing Kisuke would say against that, not when Ichigo was standing right there, and not when the man was asking with such bright eyes.

Kisuke hadn’t planned for this.

He leaned into the touch, let the warm at his back ground him. If nothing else, he could smile and deflect. It was a skill he’d honed into a weapon over the years.

“Don’t you know its bad form to kiss on the first date, Ichigo? I’ll think you’re after my virt—“

Warm lips cut him off with a scowl, and Kisuke— Kisuke was lost.

In the moments when he had considered Ichigo, naked and hungry with pleasure, Kisuke had concluded the man would be an impatient, rough fuck. Careful, yes, but unstoppable as a storm. Kisuke had imagined all that endless strength hauling him up against a wall, fucking him until his legs were shaking and his mind was completely, thankfully blank.

He had imagined a lot.

He thought Ichigo would work him to orgasm and beyond, the stamina of a god ready to destroy him. He thought Ichigo would learn how to fuck quickly too— the man had always had a learning curve like no other, and Kisuke knew that could be turned to pleasure as easily as anything else.

He thought Ichigo could make him moan loud enough for Soul Society to hear, loud enough that he would be laughing and breathless. Kisuke liked that thought more than he should have, but he had never minded being a deviant. There were worse things in life after all, and Kisuke was most of them.

He had imagined a lot, but he’d never let himself expect a kiss, or plan for it.

Ichigo’s hands were gentle but firm, and the kiss was determined but light as a breeze. It was a question, and it ended before Kisuke could answer.

There was a heartbeat after, where Ichigo caught his chin between two fingers and stared at Kisuke until he stared back, breaking under the shadows of his hat.

“Hey, if this isn’t alright you better tell me,” the man said, like the truth was so easy to say.

Kisuke’s breath caught in his throat, with every plan he’d ever made. The words left no room for him to run away, just like Ichigo’s fingers on his chin left him no way to escape.

Kisuke was well and truly trapped, caught under Ichigo’s bright eyes and brutal honesty.

So, naturally, it was time to deflect.

“How scandalous Ichigo, to be so forward. Do you want me all tied up and at your mercy? Or spread out on the bed? I’m not sure it’s good manners, to put my virtue at risk like this.”

He was buying time, buying time for his pulse to cool and the fire in his spine to soothe to thought again. He thought he’d had a plan once. Maybe even a few of them, dancing like the threads of fate under his fingers.

He’d had something other than this fiery, desperate need.

“Damn it Kisuke, cut it out,” Ichigo said, but there was a flush rising across the man’s face. It had nothing on the sun that burned eternal in Ichigo’s eyes, or the strength that kept Kisuke’s chin still.

Kisuke had broken free of a thousand cells, in his time in the Omnitsukidō. He had escaped the white stone walls of Soul Society, and evaded Aizen’s grasping hands for a century. He was a man no trap but his own could hold, and yet those fingers held him completely still.

He was so helpless, before Ichigo.

“If you aren’t up to it, just say it straight,” Ichigo finished, without shifting or looking away. The hand on Kisuke’s back was still warm, but it was cool compared to the hand on his chin.

Plans, had he had plans for this? Kisuke thought he must have. He’d planned for everything, had even considered how Ichigo would take him to bed, if the man ever did.

But plans never matched up to Ichigo’s terrifying, brilliant, honesty. Plans could never account for Ichigo and his power. And when the plans burned away, Kisuke stood with only a sword and an open heart, before Ichigo’s strength and skill and mercy.

There was nothing more frightening, for a man like Kisuke.

“My my, I’d say there is nothing straight about this, Ichigo,” he teased, feeling the warmth seep into him like the rays of the sun.

Ichigo’s grip was too gentle to bruise. Kisuke wondered how long that would last. 

“Kisuke,” the man said, growl frowning low and annoyed in his voice. The stare burning into Kisuke’s skin was hot as fire, and in a rush of breath, Kisuke lost the last shred of mind.

He’d never imagined Ichigo’s eyes, when he thought about how the man would fuck him.The eyes were too much, somehow, too intimate. Kisuke had already given everything to Ichigo, but Ichigo hadn’t given everything to him— that made the eyes too much to picture.

Kisuke burned before them now, completely unprepared for their warmth.

“Do you want this or not?”

_Yes_ , screamed every thought in his mind, every piece of terrible genius grinding to a halt before Ichigo’s eyes.

“Yes,” he said, and then added, “are you going to ravish me, Ichigo,” just to see the scowl grow darker.

“Shut up and get on the bed,” Ichigo muttered, flush growing across the scowl to burn it away.

Kisuke swallowed, shut up, and got on the bed. He stripped off his clothes too, with steady hands and a racing pulse. The air prickled over his skin, pressing over the scars he’d earned in centuries of battle and life.

He felt weak, for all his cunning. He felt cold, without Ichigo’s fingers gripping his chin. Really, he’d never liked being so vulnerable.

“Do you want me on my hands and knees Ichigo? Though really, that’s more of a second date activity, but I could be persuaded.”

The words were too playful and too honest, filled with lies and smoke and all of Kisuke’s heart. He would give Ichigo everything, persuasion or no. Ichigo already had him, and if the man wanted him spread across the bed and moaning, it would happen. Kisuke would hardly even mind.

“Hands and knees,” came the response a second later, strangled and hungry. Kisuke didn’t look back— he’d see Ichigo’s stare if he did, and he didn’t want that until his mask had mended itself— but he was sure the man was cherry red.

He got on his hands and knees, body moving without a second’s hesitation. There were a thousand plans racing through his head, as there always were. But Kisuke had never _not_ moved to Ichigo’s orders.

“Fuck,” Ichigo said, palm landing on Kisuke’s neck and holding him steady. The word was rough and hungry, but the hand running down Kisuke’s back were gentle. He shuddered, weak under the callouses moving across his skin, under the warmth burning at him. Ichigo was like a rock in a storm, and for all Kisuke’s genius he couldn’t think of a place safer to rest than under Ichigo’s palm.

He couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be.

“Do you want me to summon ropes, Ichigo? Or maybe something more daring? If you want it, I can arrange it, given a little time.”

He spoke into the air before him, aimless and desperate. He could hardly help it, each word more breathless than the last.

His knees were pressed down across the bed, soft fabric brushing over his skin. He was hard too, and growing harder with every heartbeat that Ichigo’s fingers bruised his skin. Did Ichigo know his hands were so strong? Or was he lost too, and out of the edges of control.

Kisuke wanted Ichigo to feel this, as much as he did.

“Damn it, Kisuke,” Ichigo said, hand pressing hard into Kisuke’s back with hungry fingers. Kisuke folded under that pressure before he could think, face sliding down to press against smooth sheets and chest following soon after. His spine bent under Ichigo, curving under warm fingers and callouses.

Oh, he thought, with a choked breath he swallowed away. He hadn’t planned for that. He hadn’t planned to move quite so fast, or to want quite so badly. Neither had Ichigo, from the low swear above him.

They were both damned then. That was comforting, even if it was Kisuke’s face pressed into smooth fabric and his knees that had slid wide and lewd.

The weight of Ichigo’s bare hand was nothing Kisuke couldn’t calculate, given the right measurements. He could estimate it now, with a few quick equations, and he knew it that wasn’t enough to force him down.

And yet, it felt like Kisuke couldn’t help but bend. Ichigo’s strength was incalculable. Ichigo was incalculable, beyond Kisuke had ever been able to plan for. As a warm hand settled at the base of his spine and teased across the skin there, he knew he didn’t mind.

There were other things to calculate now, and Kisuke wanted to laugh so he didn’t keen. He wanted to snap his jaw shut and pretend this was torture, so it was easier to resist. He wanted to smile and deflect until Ichigo had gone red in the face and Kisuke had some of his composure back.

Ichigo didn’t let him.

“Kisuke you _want_ this,” the man said, pressing down harder until Kisuke could barely stay steady. His chest had sunk further into the sheets, until his ass was proud in the air and his spine was arched at the mercy of Ichigo’s fingers.

Kisuke let out a laugh, strained and quiet against the bed. He felt like he was going to break apart, with Ichigo’s hands running from his back down his sides.

He didn't think he'd even mind.

“I thought that would have been rather clear by now, Ichigo.”

Strong fingers slipped down to smooth over his hips, pull his ass further up in the air, and suddenly Kisuke didn’t have words.

It was hard to think, when a man as unstoppable as Ichigo was pressing up against his bare ass. It was harder than Kisuke would have thought, but then again, Ichigo was hard too.

He could feel it in every rocking shift of hips, in the firm press of fabric to his bare skin. He could feel it in the strength of Ichigo’s hands, and how they were a shade harder than they should have been.

But he only shifted back, moving towards Ichigo. He always moved towards Ichigo. 

There was a strangled sound from behind him as he shifted, flustered and quiet. It sounded like a groan too, and Kisuke didn’t have more than a minute to adjust to the pressure on his skin. Ichigo leaned across his back, clothes brushing over Kisuke and making his body prickle.

“Let me fuck you,” Ichigo said, the words a command but ghosting into a question. It echoed out between them, sure and steady as the flush Kisuke knew marked Ichigo’s skin. The flush didn’t mean anything, when a cock pressed against his ass and warm air ghosted over his shoulder.

His plans meant nothing, when Ichigo was asking to fuck him.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, relaxed down against the bed. The heat of Ichigo’s hands across his hips was terrible, but the clothing cutting into his skin was worse. Kisuke would melt if it took any longer for Ichigo to fuck him, but he couldn’t mind.

This was his king, after all.

“At this point, I think I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

There was another breath above him, this time sharp and heavy. Calloused hands smoothed down to press against the back of his thighs, trace firm fingers over the inside of his legs.

They were so warm. The callouses caught at his skin too, until Kisuke could only shiver and sink deeper against the bed. Ichigo followed him down slow, mouth kissing in the dip of his spine and hands holding his legs up. The touch felt too warm and too much and just enough, and Kisuke couldn’t help but groan.

Ichigo really was going to be true death of him.

“I think you may be missing something,” he said, as Ichigo touched him in a thousand places but didn’t spread him open or touch his cock. The man was still dressed too, the shift and sound of jeans driving Kisuke to distraction. He had felt them press against his ass minutes ago, and could hear them now.

But he couldn’t feel Ichigo, except for warm hands and warmer kisses.

“Shut up, Kisuke,” came the response, quick and automatic. Then came more words, quieter and painfully honest. “I can’t help it, okay? I just want to touch you.”

Kisuke was going to die, quickly and with a humiliating amount of whimpering. He might moan too, just from the quiet trust in Ichigo’s voice. That was if he didn’t moan from the hands across his skin, or the way his body bent to every touch.

Really, Kisuke was far too weak.

“There is just more of me you could be touching, Ichigo, and I just wanted to make sure you know your full range of options. You wouldn’t want to miss out—“

The words choked off in his throat, stolen and strangled into silence.

Well. That was one way to start fingering someone open. Ichigo pressed slick fingers into him like Kisuke was a new technique to learn and there were people to protect with it. Those fingers were ruthless, stealing his breath with every thrust and making his cock twitch. He thought he couldn’t fall farther forward, but those fingers rocked him until his knees almost gave way.

“Ichigo, really, you are quite lethal,” he said, as his hands trembled on the fabric under him. The sheets felt too smooth and too thin, the pressure on his knees too much.

There was a quick twist of fingers, a gentle bruise pressed into Kisuke’s hip, and he shuddered. Ichigo’s hands were calloused and warm, and they moved him like he was a weapon to command.

And wasn’t he, he thought, as Ichigo let out a rough breath and Kisuke almost moaned. Wasn’t he Ichigo’s weapon, for all that the man would never use him?

Helpless and at the mercy of Ichigo’s hands, Kisuke certainly felt like it.

“Kisuke, stop talking before I kick you out of bed,” the man said, forehead pressing to his back like Ichigo was steadying himself on Kisuke’s body.

The noise Kisuke made was downright lewd, and he could only laugh.

“How kinky of you, Ichigo,” he managed, voice breathy and nearly broken. This was just as he had imagined, in the long and quiet nights when he let this fantasy play out.

Ichigo learned very quickly indeed.

“I’ll show you kinky,” was muttered above him, dark as a promise and twice as lethal. Kisuke shivered under those words, ready for everything they promised. But Ichigo’s hand was gentle where it had curled around his hip, and the fingers in him were merciless but steady.

Maybe Kisuke would have to show Ichigo kinky instead, but that could be arranged after he’d been fucked mindless.

“Be my guest,” he said, and moaned at a particularly well aimed thrust. Sword callouses felt rough and strange inside him, but Kisuke couldn’t mind. This was Ichigo, it was his sun and his king fucking him.

He couldn’t mind at all, especially when Ichigo struck that place again and again, until Kisuke was painfully hard and panting into the bed below him.

He felt helpless.

He clenched his fingers into the sheets, watched the fabric shift and stretch at his touch. It was soft, one of the western beds that had grown popular over the last century. Kisuke was still used to the futons of his youth, but Ichigo preferred the bed, and so a bed had appeared in the shop just for him.

On the nights when he’d imagined this, Kisuke had pictured Ichigo breaking him to pieces in this bed. He had pictured being at the mercy of Ichigo’s hands, imagined in the vivid detail of a genius mind how his body would move to Ichigo’s whims.

He’d pictured a cock splitting him open too, and he’d like that fantasy fulfilled.

“I’m sure it’s scenic back there, Ichigo, but I’d like to get to the main event before I die of old age.”

There was a low groan in response, an irritated sound ghosting over Kisuke’s back. He could almost imagine the scowl Ichigo was wearing, on top of a bright and beautiful blush.

He spared a moment to be grateful that his face had fallen into the sheets. He wasn’t sure he’d survive looking at Ichigo like this. He wasn’t sure he’d survive at all, but Kisuke was far too greedy to die when he could live with Ichigo.

“Kisuke do you have any idea what you look like? You’re bent over and—“

There was a pause, as slick fingers slid out of him. Kisuke felt horrifyingly empty, until the warmth shifted back, this time with bare skin and the heat of something more than fingers.

“It’s a little hard to see myself like this, I’m afraid,” he said, and didn’t shift back to beg for Ichigo’s cock.

But he wanted to.

“You’re always so damn prepared. You’re always ready for everything, and always have five back up plans.” Ichigo said, as a cock caught at the edge of Kisuke’s hole and pressed against it. It felt big, and warm as fire. Kisuke may have calculated that size too, but that was an estimate he’d keep for another day. He wanted to be fucked too badly to use this moment to tease.

Kisuke shuddered out a gasp, as Ichigo slammed home. His thighs were shaking, as his cock was shaking, as he was shaking down across the bed. Trust Ichigo to be impressive, even in this. Trust Ichigo to sink deep into him and stay there, like the man wanted to hold Kisuke close and bruise marks across his hips.

Trust Ichigo to be unstoppable, even here.

Kisuke shifted across the sheets, took a breath. His spine was arched far enough to break, but he had put his composure back together from harder things.

“But now you look like—“

Kisuke wasn’t sure he could survive hearing what he looked like, either. But he could tell Ichigo what he was, what he had always been.

“Oh?” He asked, breathless and light, as the cock inside him began to move and thrust. His own cock was aching to be touched, but Kisuke kept his hands on the sheets. There was something almost mesmerizing about being fucked and driven to the edge like this.

“Do I look like I’m yours, Ichigo?” He said, and felt Ichigo tremble above him.

“Fuck, Kisuke,” Ichigo said, as strong hands flexed around Kisuke’s hips. There would be bruises across his skin tomorrow, where Ichigo had lost the tiniest bit of control.

Kisuke didn’t mind.

Ichigo pulled him back then, sitting back on his heels and driving deep into Kisuke’s body. Warm lips settled against his neck, as a cock settled in his ass, as Kisuke settled across Ichigo’s lap.

Nothing in him could stop the moan.

Ichigo buried his face in the crook of Kisuke’s neck, breathing against his skin like it was air. He could feel every desperate kiss and quick thrust, every shift of fabric beneath his knees.

He could feel everything, and so he shuddered and laughed.

“I think you already are, but you could certainly do it faster.”

Kisuke sank back down on Ichigo’s cock, felt it fill him more. Like this, with Ichigo’s chest pressed against him, Kisuke could feel every heartbeat echo between them. He could count them, and the part of his mind that never slept did.

The rest of him was chanting _more_ , loud and desperate.

“How am I supposed to fuck you if you don’t shut up, I can’t. You’re just—“

“Just—“ a thrust cut him off, hard and ruthless. Kisuke felt a groan slip out of his throat, barely loud enough to not be a whimper. Ichigo was going to ruin him, he knew. “Just what, Ichigo?”

“Beautiful,” was muttered against his skin, like it was a secret, like it wasn’t the sharpest knife Kisuke had ever taken. He came like that, with Ichigo’s hand running across his cock just on the right side of rough and desperate thrusts fucking him dizzy.

There was a moment after, when Kisuke’s legs were shaking and his mind was quietly blank, where Ichigo kissed him. A strong hand came up to his chin while the other held him steady, but both were too warm. Ichigo tasted like a sunrise after a long night, ruthless and hungry and desperately firm. He tasted like strawberries and cream, like the hint of dust and blood after battle.

He tasted like Ichigo, and Kisuke could only crane his neck for more.

It was after his heart had slowed, and after the trembling in his legs had shaken to steadiness, that Kisuke realized Ichigo was still hard. Ichigo was still hard inside him, and Kisuke, well— Kisuke wanted to feel him for days. He wanted to be fucked until Ichigo was done, and held too close to a chest that was too warm.

He wanted this, with all the greedy shards of his guilty heart. And if Ichigo would give this to him? If the man he’d sworn to follow and fight for would give him this? Kisuke would take it all, even if it broke him to pieces.

He shifted, clenching weakly at the cock inside him and grinding down. It had been a while, but Kisuke still remembered how to drive a man wild. He didn’t worry about tilting forward and losing balance, or about holding himself up.

Ichigo would never let him fall.

“Ichigo,” he began, voice rough and breathy. It sounded like the man had fucked his throat raw, and that was fitting. Kisuke felt scrapped raw himself, like Ichigo had cracked him open and cradled him in strong hands.

Really, he wasn’t going to survive this.

“I think coming inside me is really a third date activity, but I could be persuaded.”

There was a laugh against the back of his neck, half way to a groan. It brushed over his skin, hot and desperately hungry. It was annoyed too, as annoyed as Ichigo ever got with the people he considered his.

Kisuke, guilty genius though he was, counted among those people. He had never quite managed to make himself believe that, but here, held close against a strong chest, it was inescapable. Ichigo would never let him fall, he remembered. Not here, and not ever.

“Shut up, Kisuke,” Ichigo said at last, and it sounded a little like happiness.

Kisuke had never heard a more beautiful sound.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hit me up on [my server](https://discord.gg/7tn2ywb) for prompts and general tomfoolery, and my [twitter](https://twitter.com/gotcocomilk) or [tumblr](https://thehoardofthegreatdragon.tumblr.com) for stupidity. 
> 
> I love hear if I wrote a particularly captivating or interesting line-- feel free to include it in a comment to feed your friendly neighborhood writing monster.


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